


Comes Around

by jonny_vrm (elmo_loves_me)



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2006-11-22
Updated: 2006-11-22
Packaged: 2017-10-09 22:11:34
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 837
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/92148
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/elmo_loves_me/pseuds/jonny_vrm
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p><i>When Sam was eight, his favorite food was licorice.</i></p>
            </blockquote>





	Comes Around

**Author's Note:**

> Written VERY late for the "food &amp; drink" challenge at LJ kaz2y5. Also, written for dru because we were joking around and I promised her a drabble and then it turned out to be a promise I could keep. More than a drabble, though... nonadrabble, maybe? Octadrabble? Hahaha. ♥

When Sam was eight, his favorite food was licorice. Not exactly a food, but Dean can remember saving every penny, scooping quarters off of sidewalks and nickels out of change jars, just to buy Sammy a cheap pack of licorice whips.

Dean didn't have a favorite food.

When Sam was nine he decided he liked chocolate chip cookies better than anything in the whole world. Dean used to go out of his way to get them behind their Dad's back because John was already emphatic about his boys eating healthy. Sometimes Dean got them for free if he made his eyes big and his lower lip tremble – housewives could only hold out for so long against a skinny, pouting child.

Dean decided that maybe he liked chocolate chip cookies, too.

When Sam was eleven he fell in love with Kit-Kats. Dean used to do odd jobs if they stayed in any one place long enough – mowing lawns, washing windows, painting birdhouses – to get some spending money, but he always ended up wasting it all on Sam and his Kit-Kat obsession. Sam loved to eat them layer by layer, licking chocolate off his fingers and crunching the thin wafers in a candy-coated grin that made Dean laugh.

Dean thought Kit-Kats were pretty good.

When Sam was thirteen he couldn't get enough cheeseburgers. Every diner they stopped at, every hole-in-the-wall café, Sam ordered a cheeseburger and fries, chewing with relish, eyes half closed and throat working. Dean watched him between bites and wished he had enough money to buy cheeseburgers to last Sam forever. John just rolled his eyes and ordered another one to-go, even though they all knew Sammy would eat it the second they hit the parking lot – it was tradition.

Dean liked cheeseburgers a lot, just without any cheese.

When Sam was fourteen he used to sneak potato chips into their bedroom. Dean would hear him crunching stealthily at night, trying to soften the chips with his tongue and saliva before chewing, never waiting long enough. More often than not Dean ended up going over to Sammy's bed and they'd sit, leaning against the headboard, just the two of them. _I just bought these today_, Dean would say, crinkling the empty bag. _I know_, Sam always answered, wrapping an arm around Dean's waist before falling asleep.

Dean kept a bag of Lays in the glove compartment for emergencies.

When Sam was sixteen he discovered a real watermelon at a farmers' market in west Kentucky. They'd had watermelon before, but nothing like this – pink flesh bursting with juice, seeds slippery-black, buried deep in the pulp. Sam made John buy two and he ate them slowly, ecstatically, over the next three days. When he ran out, he vowed he would never love another fruit. Dean smirked and tossed Sam an apple.

Dean bought watermelon gum when he stopped at the local gas station – it wasn't the same, but it was something.

When Sam was eighteen he didn't talk as much as he used to. He ate Goldfish crackers in the backseat, tossing them rapid-fire, one after the other into his bored mouth. Dean watched Sam secretly in the side mirror and tried not to listen to John's grumbles about crumbs in the carpet and grease on the upholstery. Dean hustled pool – easier than working – and every night he'd drop by the nearest 7-11. Sam would wake up in the morning with a bag of Goldfish tucked into the crook of his elbow, cheesy smell wafting lazily, and he'd smile at Dean like he used to before he got too old to care.

Dean could never catch them in his mouth like Sam, but Goldfish went down just as easily by the handful as they did one by one.

When Sam was twenty he and Jess went to the local coffee shop, _Bella's_, every Saturday and Sunday night. Jess ordered something different each weekend, but Sam made a point of buying the last of their day's supply of Peanut-butter Bars. There was something about the way each mouthful stuck to his gums that he couldn't resist. Jess teased him, good-hearted, and read her book quietly, twirling a piece of hair around her fingers. Sam savored his Peanut-butter Bar and stared out the window, trying not to notice the dark alley across the street.

Dean didn't know.

When Sam was twenty-two he didn't pay much attention to what he ate. Jess was gone, Dean was quiet, and the Impala was the same as always. Sam drank a lot of bottled water.

Dean bought in bulk.

_You never get me licorice anymore_, Sam says one day when Dean's changing tapes. _That what you want?_ Dean wants to know, flipping a cassette over his fingers and into the box. _Yeah_, Sam looks at his jeans, picks at a hole on his left knee. _Yeah, it is_.

Dean stops at the next grocery store he sees and buys three packs of licorice and a box of chocolate chip cookies – for the road.

END

**Author's Note:**

> (Read the story on LJ [HERE](http://jonny-vrm.livejournal.com/6165.html).)


End file.
